


From Emptiness to Melody

by Johniarty



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alpha Geralt, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Breeding, Dirty Talk, Holidays, Knotting, M/M, Mating, Mating Bond, Omega Jaskier, Omegaverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:20:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28441539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johniarty/pseuds/Johniarty
Summary: Geralt's been hired to work security for Ehmyr's yearly charity gala, and the hottest singer in the country is scheduled to perform before the drunken throng of celebrities and blue bloods. There's no chance he could get distracted. After all, everyone knows Witchers don't experience ruts.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 9
Kudos: 207





	From Emptiness to Melody

**Author's Note:**

> A big shoutout to RoedValkyrie for being my beta, and my fabulous artist Binary-Suunset!
> 
> These last few months hit my house HARD. I was scheduled for bottom surgery on Oct 21st. On the 16th, my doctor told me my blood tests showed I had diabetes and they had to postpone until I got my A1C levels safe. At the end of October, my husband and his parents tested positive for Covid. ChloeWinchester, my other partner, was visiting so we had to scrounge to quarantine (and stay fed for two extra weeks beyond what we planned). I've been having 3-4 appointments a month for my diabetes treatment and I've been run ragged. This was supposed to be 5k, but I only managed 3k and the reason is, y'know, my life just kind of exploded when autumn hit lmao.
> 
> I'm really fucking proud of this, though. I love these boys so much and I'm so grateful I got to participate in my first bang event <3

  
  


Another year, another of Emhyr’s charity balls. Geralt held fast by the door, checking all the celebrities and nobles that entered for weapons and outside liquor. The sales of drink tickets - tickets to the _good_ shit - went entirely to this season’s charity. ‘ _Holiday Helpers_ ’ set out to provide shelter, food, clothes, and toys to the impoverished and every entrance fee and ticket purchase gave them more resources to help.

Tonight saw many more celebrities than usual, as Emhyr had secured a venue in Oxenfurt. More central, easier to reach than the islands he tended to favor, the RSVPs far outnumbered any previous ball. Deeper purses meant rougher work for Geralt. More to guard, more to follow, more to keep tabs on. Tedious. Dull. Even for a good cause, Geralt couldn’t keep the boredom off his face. 

“Lighten up, Geralt,” a man in a gold suit quipped, clapping him on his shoulder. Ermion Mousesack didn’t quite reach Geralt’s chin, but he didn’t seem to mind. Beaming, he moved to face him, eyes shrewd. 

“You look like you’re attending a funeral! It’s the holidays, can’t you be a little more… festive? Fun?”

“Not here for fun. Here to do a job, same as every year.” 

“It’s a _good_ job. You’re making a difference in the world.”

“Ermion,” Geralt sighed, “I’m guarding the door while the wealthy donate pennies and clap themselves on the back. Sorry if I’m not enthused enough for you.”

Ermion rolled his eyes and took a long drink from his wine glass. 

“Suit yourself, I suppose. Did you hear who the performer is tonight?”

“... No.” 

Why would he? Geralt wouldn’t get to enjoy the festivities, not while he was keeping an eye on the guests.

“Jaskier!”

“Who?”

“Oh,” Ermion said, giving him a disappointed look. “You poor _thing_. Where have you been hiding?! Julian Pankratz, he’s a songwriter and performer who works under the name Jaskier! He’s been dominating the radio all year.”

“Don’t listen to the radio,” Geralt shrugged.

“Then you’re in for a treat tonight. Voice like an angel, incredible poet, and his command of guitar is near prodigy levels. I believe he may even melt _your_ icy heart, Geralt.”

He didn’t deign to respond. Ermion was a romantic at heart, fancied himself a tactician but all his little schemes were practically transparent. Geralt wouldn’t be listening to the performance. He’d be doing his fucking _job_.

* * *

“Ladies and gentlemen! Tonight we have a very special performance planned! Every ticket purchased is a meal for an underprivileged child this holiday season, every drink pass another day of warmth and safety - but no good deed goes unpraised or unrewarded, not while I have a say!

“Tonight, not only will there be a donation sheet for you kind souls to help our charity further, but the evening’s entertainment will be provided by this year’s most sensational performer, Jaskier! The performance starts in ten minutes. Please make your way to the ballroom if you so wish!”

Emhyr’s voice rang out over the speakers, interrupting the holiday music he’d been piping in for the guests. Geralt glanced toward the closest unit. If Emhyr was announcing the musical guest, then that meant he needed to move to the ballroom. He closed off the entrance area with velvet ropes and made his way toward the performance.

The ballroom was decorated like a page out of a storybook - multiple evergreens covered with shining lights and baubles, tinsel and chains of popcorn adding to the dreamlike quality of the atmosphere. There were candles and wreaths, poinsettias and presents, a fireplace crackling away with stockings hanging from the mantle. 

There were plenty of non-Christmas decorations as well, heartfelt if misguided attempts to be inclusive, but Emhyr mostly ran with Tories - any progressive stances he seemed to take were for the press, not the guests. Even for the photo ops, Geralt had to admit it was more than most people would do. Especially in Oxenfurt. 

The full effect felt as if Emhyr had condensed the season into a single display; a magical room where the holidays never ended and had always waited for its guests with open arms. 

On a raised platform decorated with garland and a small tree all its own, a young man in a dark green suit sat perched on a plush stool with a guitar on his lap. His jacket hung over the case of his instrument, giving him a casual, half-dressed appearance. Beneath his vest he wore a tight white button-up tucked neatly into his slacks. Dark brown locks reached his shoulders, soft and shining in the warm spotlights. He wore a neutral expression as he set up; Geralt watched him from the back of the throng as they chattered away, intrigued by how _plain_ he seemed. 

As the musician settled, he seemed to come to life. Clear, eager light bloomed in his eyes as he smiled out at the crowd, offering them a pleasant wave. His artful scruff, the blush dusting his cheeks, everything about his look came together to form an image of a playful, cherubic youth. As the guests began to quiet down, he strummed a single chord and drew the eyes of every single person in the room.

“Good evening, ladies, gentlemen, and everyone both outside and in! My name is Jaskier!”

He gave a low bow as applause and whistles erupted through the ballroom.

“‘Tis the season of joy and cheer! Hope and home! Family and friends! I can’t thank Emhyr enough for inviting me here - there’s nothing more important than kindness now, as the temperatures drop and snow dusts the ground. So many in our fair city don’t have the basic necessities to make it through this winter. Any winter. With your donations, you can _really_ make a difference these holidays.”

Geralt could hear the sarcastic bite in his tone, even as the crowd ate it up. He fluffed their egos even as he condemned their hypocrisy. It was fascinating; he talked circles around the wealthy socialites, and Geralt couldn’t help but smirk. Maybe he needed to look into this cute kid some more. 

“Would you all mind terribly if I started off with some of the seasonal classics?”

“Fairytale of New York!” One drunk man called out, raising an entire bottle of wine. 

Geralt moved to intercept him, to lead him somewhere quiet to sober up, but from the stage Jaskier let out a delighted sound. 

“Ah, you’re in luck! Shane and I rewrote a few lines together just for such an occasion!”

Murmurs spread among the crowd. Geralt could hear every whispered curse, every confused question, every grumble about ‘political correctness’, and it brought a wider grin to his lips. Getting them riled up so soon was an interesting play, especially at a charity event, and Geralt couldn’t help but hope for a brawl at the very least - something for him to **do**.

Jaskier sat back down on his stool and began to play. Silence fell over everyone gathered. His voice struck Geralt immediately - rich like hot cider on an autumn day, soothing and beautiful and haunting. He was entranced, all focus fading until there was only Jaskier. Only his pink lips moving. His slender hands playing. His eyes shining in the spotlight, with the flames of the candles and the fairy lights reflected in their depths. 

And they kept finding their way to Geralt’s gaze.

His heart slowed. Time seemed to stop. Song after song blended together, a medley of heavenly vocals and skillful strings. Jaskier worked his way through all the holiday classics, much to the delight of the crowd, but Geralt couldn’t separate them. He worked his way closer to the stage, the platform Jaskier sat on, as people parted to let him through.

With every step the scent of him grew stronger. Alphas and Omegas were required to use hormone blockers in order to attend the gala. The last thing Emhyr wanted was a rut, or a heat, to start during the charity event. Cycles spelled chaos. Orgies. Shameful displays of primal lust. Certainly unbecoming of such an organized ball like this - the tabloids, the scandals, the ruin it could bring to the crème de la crème of Oxenfurt and the surrounding cities. 

But under Jaskier’s blockers, Geralt could _smell_ it. The unmistakable scent of an Omega close to heat. This performance was a risk, one Jaskier clearly weighed and found _worth_ that risk. 

And _fuck_ , he smelled incredible.

“This next song is an original. Um, I wrote it in a moment of melancholia, nostalgic for the holidays of my childhood. My gran, she would play her guitar and sing at every family gathering and… Well, I loved her. I wanted to make her proud.”

Jaskier smiled sadly and began to play. 

“ _Fresh fallen snow upon the ground, and there’s no sound  
__Save for the strumming of her old Gibson guitar  
__Every ear rapt at full attention with no mention  
__Of the chill as it bites into our bones_

 _Firelight, it dances high into the inky evening sky  
_ _As we gather round the flames for our dear Yule  
_ _Her voice is strong, loud and long, and that all-familiar song  
_ _Melts the ice of all the drama this year past_

 _Carols fill the air, voices give rise to their heights  
__A choir of family, old and young, new and done,  
__As the lights blink to life, gold and white, one by one  
__And the forest is aglow on this Christmas Eve night…_ ”

Geralt could see it in his mind, brought to life by Jaskier’s expert storytelling. A bonfire out back in the countryside, family gathered around with plates of food, singing songs as they waited for the trees to be lit… He could almost smell the stinging smoke. Feel the winter winds piercing his coat and pricking his flushed cheeks. 

He couldn’t help but wonder what his grandmother sounded like. It was clear she meant a lot to Jaskier, and there was a soft sadness to his features as she sang about her. Clearly he loved her, and clearly he missed her. Maybe that was why he took the charity job, Geralt thought, his chest aching with the faintest pain. 

How nice it must be to have a home. A normal family with traditions.

As Jaskier went into the chorus again he stood and crossed to the edge of the platform. Sweating, closer than Geralt had ever expected to get, the cloyingly sweet scent of his skin pulled Geralt from his thoughts and back under his spell.

Geralt couldn’t concentrate on anything else then. Not security, not the crowd, not even keeping an eye on the displayed gifts for the auction later in the evening. His mind, his body, craved only one thing. 

He would _have_ him. Whatever the cost, Geralt would claim the beautiful artist as his own.

* * *

“Thank you! You’ve all been wonderful, truly - yes, thank you!” 

The hall filled with loud cheers and whistles as Jaskier finished his set. Cries of ‘Encore!’ broke through now and again, and Jaskier’s cheeks flushed deeper as he waved the idea away. 

“Sorry, dear hearts, the night is young and there are many more festivities planned! I haven’t even gotten to look at the auction items! Don’t worry - I _will_ be around for graphs, both photo and auto,” he teased with a wink. “Happy Holidays, and remember. Kindness need not appear only once in a year.”

Jaskier bowed once more and excused himself, taking his guitar case with him. 

Overhead Emhyr began to announce the next event, but Geralt wasn’t listening. He was hunting. Jaskier was quick, disappearing into the crowd, but Geralt had _scented_ him. The imprint of his hormones, his sweat, his very **breath** were fresh in his skilled nose. All Geralt needed to do was follow the trail. 

Through the halls, past the parlors and the kitchens and the studies, Geralt kept to the path Jaskier had woven. The guests paid him no mind - staff wandering the venue was expected. As he stalked deeper into the manor, fewer people milled and mingled, until Geralt found himself utterly alone. Oppressive quiet clung to him. Though he could still hear the carols piped over the speakers they sounded miles away, muffled by the thick walls.

His hunt led him to a door off by itself. The frame was lined with glittering gold lights and a wreath of baubles hung in the center. Jaskier’s scent was overwhelming - heady and thick, beckoning to him, waking something dark and primal inside him. 

Like all Witchers, Geralt carried a particular quirk - he didn’t rut. None in his school did. That made them perfect for large, mixed events like Emhyr’s charity ball. Perfect control. No lustful drive to get in the way of their sharp focus. No distractions. He’d fucked before. It felt good, he couldn’t breed, so why derive himself? What he felt standing at the door, however, was _different._

His cock **ached**.

It ached with a need Geralt had never experienced. A dull throb from his heavy balls. Heat flooding his shaft. Heart rate slowed. Geralt _hungered_ . Geralt _craved_. He grabbed the doorknob and pushed the door open with a rough grunt. Nothing would keep him from his prey.

Inside, Jaskier was already stripping beside an empty table. A clean outfit sat on a couch by the wall, beside a bottle of blockers. At the sound of the door opening, he turned his head and smirked at Geralt over his shoulder. The subtle movement sent his hair slipping from behind his ear. 

“I’d hoped it was you. One can never be too careful, after all, but I had a feeling. A feeling it’d be you that followed. The way you _stared_ at me…”

Jaskier chuckled and finished removing his slacks. Naked now, he turned and leaned back against the table. His fair skin was covered in thick, dark hair, and Geralt’s eyes followed the trail down his chest to his swollen cock. Jaskier’s inner thighs were shiny with the first few trickles of slick.

He’d been closer to heat than Geralt expected. 

“It was like you were staring at the stars. That awe. That wonderment. I’ve never felt so naked in front of an audience, and I must say, I loved every second of your attention.”

Geralt had been caught. Jaskier _had_ noticed him. Noticed him _and_ led him to his dressing room, something Geralt was having difficulties wrapping his mind around. It was too hard to think with Jaskier naked and dripping. All he wanted to do was bury his face between his cheeks and drink the hallowed nectar from his cunt.

“I…”

“Do you have a name, handsome?”

“Mmn. Geralt.”

“Geralt… strong name, for a strong Alpha. Come on. Strip for me, show me that powerful body of yours.”

He wasted no time, shedding his clothes and tossing them to the floor without a second thought. 

“Incredible… stay there. Let me get a good look at you before you lose control.”

Jaskier circled around him slowly, inspecting his muscular body with a deep attention that sent chills along Geralt’s skin. He felt like a piece of meat, bared on the butcher’s counter for a buyer. Jaskier’s appraising hums filled him with a strange sense of pride. 

_Wanted. Desired._

These were new sensations to Geralt. There had been flings in the past, one-night stands just to scratch the eager itch for physical pleasure, but this was a brand new feeling altogether; the same experiments that gave Witchers their unmatched strength and skill hindered their hormone development. That’s what made them so good as contractors. Heats didn’t affect them.

Generally. 

Even among Witchers there still existed a chance. Miniscule though it was, that chance, every Alpha or Omega they encountered ran the risk of rousing the hunger inside them. Geralt always wrote it off as a cautionary tale. A warning to be vigilant, nothing more. As Jaskier came to a stop and bent over the table, however, Geralt realized how foolish those thoughts were. His scent was even stronger as he spread his firm cheeks, squirting onto the carpet beneath him.

If he didn’t fuck Jaskier right then, he’d go fucking mad.

“Geralt,” Jaskier cooed in a desperate voice. “Are you going to stand there drooling, or are you going to _take_ me? Look at me. _Smell_ me. I-I can’t keep waiting. I need to be fucked, or everyone will catch my scent… Please. Please, don’t you want this? Don’t you want _me_?”

A feral snarl tore from his throat as he crowded his body against Jaskier’s. Geralt dragged his nails up his creamy thighs and rubbed his fat, heavy cock against his dripping cunt. His hot breath ghosted along the nape of Jaskier’s neck and the Omega let loose a shuddering moan. It was too much and not enough, need driving all other thoughts from his mind as he sought Jaskier’s hole in a fevered haze. 

It took several rough thrusts for Geralt to get it right. He pressed into Jaskier, sinking easily into his wanting flesh, hilting his cock with an eager grunt. For a few moments time seemed to stand still. Jaskier squirmed on his length, desperate to feel him move, but Geralt needed to savor the _heat_ , the _tightness_ , the feel of his slick pouring down their legs as his muscles squeezed and squirted. 

He wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s belly and started to move. Geralt thrust hard and quick, striking as deep as he could inside Jaskier with each primal snap of his hips. 

“Yes! Fuck! _Fuck_ me, Geralt,” Jaskier sobbed, covering his arms with his own. “Claim what’s yours, teach my body what it means to _be_ yours!”

All he could do was growl in response. Drool spattered down onto Jaskier’s shoulder as Geralt fucked him. No earthly pleasure compared to the twitching pussy of _his_ Omega. 

His. 

**His.**

It didn’t matter if Geralt was sterile. As he brushed his fangs along the curve of Jaskier’s neck he knew he wouldn’t stop trying. Trying to breed him. To whelp him. To fill his belly with pups, until he was swollen with seed. 

“Mine,” he grunted. “ **_Mine_ ** . My bitch. My _mate_. Mine…” 

Geralt snarled and panted praises as he pounded into Jaskier. Each was met with eager whimpers from his Omega, blessing Geralt with new pressure around his cock as Jaskier trembled around him. His knot began to swell against the raw, slick muscle of Jaskier’s cunt. 

“Yours,” Jaskier choked out. “Oh, fuck, Geralt. I’m **_yours_ ** _!”_

Vision white, fire burning in his blood, Geralt didn’t hesitate.

Sharp teeth pierced Jaskier’s skin. Blood welled beneath Geralt’s fangs. He drank, moaning as Jaskier’s soul opened to him. White-hot electricity sparked along his spine and he could _feel_ Jaskier’s pleasure, his devotion, his joy - and Geralt knew Jaskier could feel his own swell of emotions in turn. The conduit blossoming between them was nearly overwhelming. Two souls becoming one. An unspeakably rare bond threatening to consume them both. 

Geralt thrust deep on instinct. His thick knot forced past Jaskier’s hole, coaxing a startled whine from his Omega. He couldn’t tell if the roar echoing in his ears belonged to him or Jaskier. Muscles taut, fingers digging bruises into Jaskier’s furry stomach, Geralt came hard. Thick, hot seed flooded Jaskier’s cunt, filling him, ceaseless and searing. Beneath their arms his belly began to swell. 

Geralt’s drool was pink with blood as it slid down Jaskier’s skin. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t move. His body felt heavy as it weighed Jaskier down against the hard table, tied inside him by his massive knot. There’d been no separating for a while, not until it subsided.

It was a good thing Jaskier hadn’t agreed to an encore.

“Oh… Geralt,” Jaskier whispered softly. He turned his head, a dazed smile on his soft lips. “You haven’t even kissed me yet. Yah bet you heard? It’s dangerous to break Christmas traditions.”

Geralt watched as he looked to the ceiling. He followed Jaskier’s gaze, mildly confused.

Hanging above them was a beautiful sprig of mistletoe.

“How reckless of me,” Geralt chuckled. He leaned in and caught Jaskier’s lips in a languid, loving kiss.


End file.
